


stars

by RosieClark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Demons AU, F/M, some good ol' feels, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 16:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieClark/pseuds/RosieClark
Summary: “I’m going to ask you one last time to unhand my contractor.”“I don’t think so buddy. There’s a big price on the pretty ladies head, and we intend to cash out.” A chain, likely made from the man’s magical aura, manifests in his hands, a nasty looking spike-ball at one end. “So are you going to step out of the way or are we going to have to do this the hard way? Because I really like the hard way.”“Good,” she hears the demon reply, and she can practically see his cocky smirk. “So do I.”
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 46
Kudos: 59





	1. to sign a contract

**Author's Note:**

> here, have a demons au that's been stewing for a while. huge shout out to the dudes over at the conservatory server for helping mold this au from one scene to an entire fic idea! never would have written this without you guys! 
> 
> and gigantic thanks to mads for the beta! you're the best!

Pulling the chair out from under his usual table, he sinks down, his muscles aching from a long day. The waiter places a full glass next to him, already knowing his order and scurries away quickly, not wanting to disturb the patron.

Lance likes this seat because of the view. The bar is on the edge of the Underrealm, its open walls providing a beautiful view of the void beyond. Even though his homeland is nothing but dark and lonely, this is one of the few places he actually enjoys. 

He watches as young, spry demons eagerly snatch at the silver scrolls appearing over their heads. In the darkness, the glowing contracts almost look like stars, or at least what he remembers stars looking like. He's been below for so long, he wouldn't be surprised if humans had somehow figured out a way to change their color, or harvest them or something abominable like that. It was just in their nature to destroy nature's beauty.

The contracts appear every time someone in the mortal world becomes desperate enough to make a deal with the devil, or in their case,  _ demon _ , and they stay twinkling in the sky until either the scroll is signed or the contractor parishes. The contracts that have been in the sky for a while float higher and shine dimmer than the rest, but to Lance, they look the best, only a faint shimmer surrounding the parchment. Their ethereal glow is reflected on the glass-like water that fills the endless void, and it is just  _ breathtaking.  _

When the waves surrounding the island he calls home are smooth, anyone can walk on it safely. In a storm however, when the waves were high and dark, only water elementals like himself can tread across safely. Not that he would actually go anywhere, but it was nice not to feel trapped.

Sighing, he takes another sip of his nunvill and swirls the clear liquid in it's glass. Nothing like a late night drink―or drinks in his case―to take the edge off a long day.

At least he's pretty sure it's been a day since he last frequented the bar. With no way to tell the time, day and night often blend into one. Raising his glass to his lips again, he realizes it's empty and makes a disapproving grunt, calling the waiter over with a wave of his hand.

Being an elemental has its perks, he has to admit. Unlimited funds, great publicity, nice house, all under the condition that while in the Underrealm, your powers are limited. The rule was in place for the safety of all demons and Undercreatures alike―after one elemental almost destroyed the entire island―and Lance has no problems with it.

Most people down here stay clear of him, having heard the brutal stories of his past. To some he is a hero, to others, a monster. However they saw him, it didn't change the fact that they want nothing to do with Water Elemental Lance Mcclain. If some smug idiot does choose to pick a fight with him, they are usually too inexperienced or intoxicated to even land a punch. Down here, he didn't need his powers. Up there, he didn't want his powers. It's safer for all if he just stayed below.

"Isn't it a little early to be throwing yourself a pity party?" A voice jerks him out of his thoughts, and he looks up into the fiery eyes of friend, rival, and fellow elemental Keith Kogane. Lance forces his trademark grin and shrugs in what he hopes is a carefree way, taking another sip of his alcoholic beverage. Keith sits across from him, shedding his gloves and signaling the waiter. "You doing okay?"

_ No, I'm not _ , he wants to scream,  _ I am not okay _ , but instead Lance just nods, watching as the server first fills his friend's glass, then tops up his own. "Never been better." A particularly cold breeze seems to pass right through his thin coat and he shivers, blowing on his hands for warmth. "You know, except for this quizancking weather."

Keith scoffs, nearly choking on his drink. "Dude, you don't get to complain about the cold until you experience winter as a fire elemental. It sucks. Some days I can't even light a candle, I'm so cold."

One misconception about the Underrealm is that it never gets cold. People often mix up his home with Hell, two very different places. That latter is a fiery pit of doom, where those who violate the rules of the Underrealm are sent, if the Altean Council decreed it. 

It is so cold today, Lance can see his breath come out in little clouds, and he is sure his nose is as red as Keith’s armor. The liquor flowing through his veins did little to warm him up, although it does take the edge off. His eyes wander to a demon excitedly signing his name on what Lance can only assume is his first contract before disappearing into a cloud of smoke. Poor kid. He has no idea what he's gotten himself into. Lance tears his gaze away and studies Keith, looking him up and down.

"You all better now?" Less of a question and more of a statement, something to fill the silence. He hated how awkward it is between them, nothing like how they used to be. But time changes everything. 

"Yeah," his friend responds, a little too quickly, his fingers twitching nervously on the table. "Allura sure knows how to work wonders."

"I'll drink to that," Lance nods, their glasses clinking together. As the clear liquid burns his throat, he makes a mental note to thank Allura. He knew first hand how experienced the princess was with healing.

When Keith had returned after signing and completing a two month contract, Lance hadn't been sure if his friend was going to make it. Elementals were practically immortal, they never aged, got sick, and rarely were injured in battle. The only real threat they have to be weary of was burning out, or using all their power in one go. Lance had only seen the husk of a burnt out demon once before, and he intended to never see one again. But Keith had looked so close to fading, that Lance had feared even the princesses magic couldn't bring him back.

They sit in silence for a while, just two elementals gazing out into the endless darkness that was their home. Keith is on edge, Lance could sense, and every cell of his body is telling him to break the ice. To say something the old Lance would say.

"So I think the princess digs me," he starts, ignoring Keith's look of surprise. "I saw her today and was like 'oh princess, can I just say you look beautiful today?' and she was all like 'oh Lonce, you are such a flirt,'" at his terrible accent, Keith loses it, snorting so loudly the contract-harvesting youngsters look their way. When he finally calms down, he waves a hand at Lance, urging him to continue the ridiculous story. "So then we walked together and she laughed at all my jokes and was totally blushing when I winked at her."

Keith gives him a skeptical look. "So you think the princess, the same one who's been rejecting you for years, suddenly has a crush on you?"

"Yup." He accentuates the 'p' by popping his lips. "I sure do."

"Well dude, good luck with that," Keith goes back to staring into the darkness. "Listen man, I've been thinking."

That is not a good conversation starter. Lance knows from experience that the next words out of Keith's mouth were either going to be about something completely off limits as a conversation topic, or something illegal. And judging by the four glasses of nunvil his friend had just downed, Lance is willing to bet it's the first.

"Look, I know the last time you went above it wasn't great,"  _ Bingo, _ Lance thinks before giving the fire elemental the stink eye. His friend is treading on dangerous territory and he knows it. Keith continues, undeterred. "But, I think it's time you gave it another chance."

Lances response is immediate and final. "No." He had vowed never to return to the surface, and nothing would persuade him to break that promise. After what had happened the last time he signed a contract... he couldn't risk it ever happening again. And if that was all Keith had wanted to talk about, this meeting was over. Lance stands up, grabbing a few coins from the air, tossing them on the table. "I'm leaving."

"No, wait, just," Keith sighs, looking shockingly old and weary for someone who never ages. "Just hear me out. Please?"

It is so out of character to hear the great fire demon talking in such a manner, that Lance sits back down―against his better judgement―calling for the waiter. "You have until I've finished with my drink." Keith is his oldest friend. He owes it to him to hear what he has to say. 

Keith wastes no time. "The mortals need us. The good and innocent are being slaughtered under the hand of a witch, a human who has learned the dark arts. And she's spreading it to her followers. Magic is now common knowledge, and it's being misused. They need you, us, our power to defeat the coming evil." He tries for a smile. "Just like old times yeah?"

To hear Keith speaking about humans as if they were innocent has Lance’s blood boiling. They were not deserving of help, from him or Keith or any other Undercreature. “The humans brought this upon themselves Keith. They have to face the consequences of their actions!"

Keith is already shaking his head. "Not all humans are like that! Some―"

"Yes they are!" he roars, slamming his fists onto the table hard enough for it to crack. The few people still left in the bar scurry our quickly, not caring to finish their drinks. After what he went through he’d be damned if he helped a human again. They deserved to suffer. 

Keith raises a hand carefully, as if talking to a feral animal. "Woah there dude, you're starting to glow."

Lance looks down at his hands, realizing his power was physically manifesting around him in blue ribbons. If his energy wasn’t dampened, things could have taken a turn for the worst. "Sorry," he grunts, taking deep, calming breaths. His eyes close as he imagines being on a beach, sun shining on his face, the smell of sea and salt and freshly made garlic knots wafting around him. It was one of the only memories he has of before, before he turned, and the only thing that could help him calm down when he loses control. 

"Look," Keith continues after a minute, waiting for Lance’s fists to unclench. "One human misused their power and took advantage of you. That was wrong and terrible and should never happen again. But that doesn’t mean they’re all bad. Some of them are even nice when you get to know them."

"Yeah, well I'm still not helping anyone," Lance grumbles, crossing his arms. "I made a vow."

“Twenty deca-pheobs Lance! So much has changed!” The fire elemental brings a hand up to massage his forehead. “Dude, I mean―you used to love helping people.” The last bit sounded so broken Lance’s heart clenched. 

It’s true, he had. To see the humans marvel at his power, the joy it brought them when they realized they were going to live to see another day―he had lived for it. Coran had once told him he must have had a good mother before he turned, for only one with a strong heart could have raised a boy like himself. A small part of him wants to accept Keith’s offer, wants to go back to the surface and see the light again, but he couldn’t. With his power, he could do more harm than good, and that was the last thing he wants. 

“I’m sorry Keith, but it's still safer for everyone if I stay down here.” 

“Not if you have a good contractor, someone you can build a relationship with.” Keith countered. “The people need you Lance.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Lance can feel his resolve slowly fading. Keith may be rash and stubborn but man did he make some fantastic arguments. “No, I made a vow.” 

"And I know you take those very seriously," Keith says, leaning back in his chair. "But let me tell you what I hear: because of a stupid promise you made to yourself twenty deca-pheobs ago, you won't get off your lazy ass and help those who need it."

"Okay well when you put it like that it makes me sound like a jerk." Lance rolls his eyes. "Anyways I'm sure all these newbies can take down this 'impending evil' for you. They'd jump at a chance at working with the great Fire Lord Keith."

"I'm not so sure they’re ready to take on these new bad guys., I mean, I'm not even sure if you could take one down." Keith made a point of looking him up and down. "You are out of practice… and a little out of shape."

Lance self-consciously crossed his arms over his stomach. "Am not! I could take down a whole army if I needed to."

Keith raised a brow, examining his fingernails. "Prove it."

"Okay, I will," Lance jumps up, summoning a pen before freezing, his hand still raised. "Wait a second I see what you're doing here."

"What's that?"

"You're trying to goad me into signing a contract." The pen in his hand disappears. "Well jokes on you because I'm not falling for it."

"But it was totally working right?"

"Yeah, okay fine it was. But I'm not going to tie myself to anyone." Lance sits back down slowly. “I―”

"You made a vow, I know. Look, I didn't want to, but with that attitude, you're giving me no choice. I'm no longer going to defend you against the rumors that are spreading."

"Rumors?" Lance looks up from his drink curiously. "About what? My devilish good looks and ability to pleasu―"

"Nope, no, please don't finish that sentence." Keith looks appalled and Lance smirks, leaning back in his chair. "But people are starting to talk. Everyone has their own story, but it always ends the same: without your powers. They are starting to doubt your credibility as an elemental."

“No,” Lance is shaking his head, his anger starting to build up again. “Have they forgotten all that we’ve, that I’ve done for them? For this wasteland we call a home?” 

“It’s a new generation,” Keith offers. “And that’s not all.” He hesitates but Lance gives him a look, one telling him to continue. “Don’t take this the wrong way but they're saying I'm stronger."

"Bullshit," Lance growls. "I'm stronger and we both know it. Remember '08?"

"Of course I remember, but that was a long time ago. A lot of time has passed since then, and I've had more practice out in the field than you."

“So you’re siding with them?” Lance spat angrily. “So much for having my back.” 

"I respect you Lance, and as a friend I'm telling you if you don't take action soon, people are going to start to ask more and more questions. And I'm not going to keep standing by your side if I don’t believe you're capable of taking down today's baddies. They're stronger than before, and you're the weakest you've ever been."

"So you’re saying you don’t think I can't take down a bad guy?" Lance challenged.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Keith yells and Lance feels his anger rising, like a high tide.

"How dare you―"

"Well what am I supposed to think Lance? You haven't done anything in twenty years!"

"I have good reasons for that!"

"I know you do, but I think the fate of humanity trumps the vow you made to yourself." Keith summoned a pen and held it out to his friend. "Now are you going to prove me wrong or what?"

As if on cue, a silver scroll appears over Lances head, it's soft glow illuminating the space around them. He stands, shrugging on his jacket and plucking the contract from the sky, unrolling it, his eyes going to the dotted black line at the bottom. 

He looks up at his friend, and takes a deep breath. “Just don’t let them hurt me again,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “Please?” 

“Never again Lance, I promise.” Keith’s gaze is so full of fire Lance has no choice but to believe him. “If there’s even a slightest chance your contractor is going to abuse their power, I’ll get the council to pull you out. 

Lance nods and sweeps his gaze over the island he had called home for as long as he could remember, taking in every detail.  _ Humanity needs him _ , he decides and before he can change his mind, he grabs the pen from Keith, downs the rest of his drink, and scrawls his name, binding himself to whoever the desperate human was.

Keith looks as shocked as Lance feels, the realization of what he just did dawning on him. 

_ Oh quiznack.  _

Almost immediately, he feels his full, unrestricted power flowing through his veins, and he is whisked away in a cloud of smoke, away from all the darkness and cold of the Underrealm. He hates to admit it but it feels really good, the wind in his face, his magic in his veins, the sunlight warming his body. 

As he flies through the sky, disguised as a shooting star, Lance uncrumples the contract in his hand and scans the page for a name. 

_ Katrina Holt _

Lance sighs and folds the scroll, stuffing it in his chest pocket. He hates to put pressure on someone he's never met before, but this Katrina Holt was humanity's last chance to restore his faith in them. And for their sake, he hopes to Alfor she doesn't mess it up.

  
  



	2. of first impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man’s gun bursts into a cloud of steam, and it is replaced by a sword, long and thin, its twin in his other hand. “Let her go,” he speaks dangerously low. 
> 
> She feels the man behind her shake his head, and there is a sharp pain in her neck as he draws blood. “If Haggar can’t have her, no one can. Victory or death.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two! honestly this piece is a blast to write! 
> 
> huge thanks to Mads for the beta! you rock!!

Selling her soul to the devil wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her Saturday evening, but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Technically she isn’t  _ selling  _ her soul, she’s simply putting it up for grabs for any demon that finds her terms and conditions agreeable. 

In other words, Katie Holt is pretty sure she’s going to die within the next hour or so, and if that didn’t happen she’d be meeting a fate much worse than death. And if tying herself to a demon was what it would take to get her out of it, she was more than willing to do so. 

The bounty hunter in front of her rubbed his meaty hands together, clearly pleased with their situation. A dark forest, no one around for miles. He out weighs her by at least a hundred pounds, and while she could try to make a run for it, she suspects his motor bike would be far faster than her little legs. 

And to think despite being so careful—only using internet cafes, making sure she never visited the same store twice—she was caught on her one attempt to exercise. The universe must hate her. 

From the side pocket of her leggings, she pulls a crumpled receipt and a pencil, and hastily scrawls out the information needed. Out of the corner of her eye she watches the hunter take a step forward. Without thinking twice, she mutters the incantation under her breath, and allows herself to enjoy the silver glow of the paper as her scribbles become typed out sentences. It is as if she is holding a star in her hands, its ethereal beauty momentarily overwhelming before it's gone, disappearing right out of her hands. 

“What was that?” the hunter asks, and she just shrugs. 

“None of your business.” 

“We’ll see about that,” The man advances, and Katie takes a stance, prepared to defend herself to the end. She’s about to duck away when her arms are yanked behind her, and she realizes the man in front had simply been a distraction. She wants to hit herself for being so stupid. 

All the books she had read said contacts should be answered within seconds of being sent out. It had been more than seconds. 

Not even a demon was willing to help her keep her life, she realizes glumly. It wasn’t like she was surprised or anything, this was a world where dogs eat dogs, but she was a little disappointed that in hell things weren’t different. That leaves little to look forward to. She wonders if she should’ve put something more intriguing on the contract, rather than check the “normal terms and conditions” box. Something like  _ Come save a damsel in distress, and be rewarded to five star peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a juice box, flavor of your choosing.  _

But no one came, and so she began to struggle against her restraints. The man holding her arms behind her back doesn’t even seem fazed, even as she kicks out with all her might, twisting and turning. At one point, she managed to kick him square in his groin, but all it earned her was a pained groan and a tighter grip on her arms. They would bruise, that's for sure. 

“Don’t worry lady, the witch wants you alive.” The goon in front of her sneers, holding an early model lazer gun to her face. It’s ironic how he’s threatening her with her father's design. She’d watched him tinker and toil over that exact model for years before finally pitching it to the Garrison. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t use force if we have to.” 

Her only response is spitting in his face. The man staggers back in surprise, before powering up the blaster, his rage clearly displayed. “Why you little piece of—”

“I’ll ask you to kindly unhand the young lady,” a voice asks, causing her and her captors to turn and look around in search of its owner. A well dressed man steps out from behind the tree, and the first word that pops into Katie’s head is  _ attractive.  _

She’s not one to judge people by their appearance, but  _ damn _ , that was one good looking man. Tall, lean muscles, gently tousled hair, all wrapped up in black slacks, a white collar shirt, and blue suit jacket. His eyes, like the ocean itself, draws her in, deeper and deeper until she feels like she’s drowning. 

“Like what you see?” Arrogance oozes out of every word, and her face flushes at the thought of being caught staring. By the smirk on his face, she’s pretty sure he  _ knows  _ how good looking he is, which makes her slightly peeved. Did this man have no shame?

“Who are you?” the man holding her barks. 

‘Who  _ moi _ ?” he saunters towards them, a hand in his pocket casually, clearly in no rush. “I’m just your everyday demon here to rescue whichever poor soul happens to be graced with my presence.” 

_ That’s not how it works _ , she wants to yell, but it turns into a yelp as she’s pulled back to the chest of her captor. Arms like tree trunks snake around her, holding her in place. His partner takes a stance beside them, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You?” he scoffs. “I took down kids like you in high school.” 

It was true, from a physical standpoint, the bounty hunters were much more built than her so called “savior”. Katie found herself losing hope that she’d ever make it out of this alive. 

“I take it that’s a no then?” 

Both men nod their heads, the second one’s grip never faltering. 

Sighing, the man takes off his jacket, laying it neatly over a log. Then, he rolls up his sleeves and loosens his tie. Katie watches mesmerized as he goes on to perform a variety of stretches, clearly taking his time. Her fascination soon turns to annoyance when his stretching continues for the next several minutes. When she had tied her soul to a demon, she had at least expected him to be helpful. 

After what seems like an eternity, the man stands to his full height and faces them. She is once again in awe of the hue of his eyes, blue over blue in swirling, moving layers, reminding her of a raging sea. He saunters over to them—once again not in a rush she realizes with annoyance—a lazy grin on his face. 

“I’m going to ask you one last time to unhand my contractor.” 

The goon only tightens his grip on her, making her wince, more due to the body odor of her captor rather than the pain itself. Cold fear however began to gather in her gut as she felt cold metal at her throat. His buddy stepped in front of them, his hands beginning to glow a faint orange, blocking her view of her “savior”. 

“I don’t think so buddy. There’s a big price on the pretty ladies head, and we intend to cash out.” A chain, likely made from the man’s magical aura, manifests in his hands, a nasty looking spike-ball at one end. “So are you going to step out of the way or are we going to have to do this the hard way? Because I really like the hard way.” 

“Good,” she hears the demon reply. “So do I.” 

The man blocking her view steps back, taking a defensive stance. She can practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. Whatever he saw, scared—no  _ terrified _ him. 

Within seconds, the goon is knocked down, his weapon disappearing. The demon looms over him, a distressing aura surrounding his entire being. Resting on one shoulder was a long-barreled gun, its tip still steaming. He cracks his neck, stepping over the man's body, turning his attention to Katie and her captor. 

The goon holding her starts to tremble, but he still doesn’t let go. The knife at her throat moves impossibly closer to her skin. 

The man’s gun bursts into a cloud of steam, and it is replaced by a sword, long and thin, its twin in his other hand. “Let her go,” he speaks dangerously low. 

She feels the man behind her shake his head, and there is a sharp pain in her neck as he draws blood. “If Haggar can’t have her, no one can. Victory or death.” 

At the sight of blood beading on the blade, something in the demon's demeanor changes. Raw power, more than she knew was even possible, surges outward in every direction, his blue aura glowing brighter. His eyes darken and he lunges forward, so fast her eye’s can’t keep up. The pressure at her throat releases and she falls on her knees, taking in shaky breaths of air. Her arms ache from her captors and she can’t stop shaking. 

When she finally pulls herself upright, her eyes scan the forest, landing on the man who had just saved her life. He’s replaced his jacket, and stands not far off. 

“Woo!” her demon cries, pumping his fist in the air. “Still got it!” 

It takes her mind a minute before she realizes he’s  _ celebrating.  _ Sure he did his job, but he didn’t need to gloat like that! 

“You see that Keith!” he yells, shaking his fist at the sky. “You said I couldn’t do one, well I did two!  _ Two!  _ Take that you complaining little match stick!” He stops, biting his lip in confusion for a second before looking down at the ground. “I guess I should be talking down to you and all seeing as you’re in the Underrealm and all, but I’ll see you soon to rub it in your face in person. Wait!” he begins to stop around in a circle, a laugh bubbling out his chest. “Hah! I’m stomping all over you! Take that!” 

Katie feels the urge to step in before things take a turn for the worse. “Hi there, I’m—”

“Katie, I know. I read the contract. I’m Lance,” he says, not bothering to look at her, his stomping growing more and more insistent. “But any second now I’m going to get sucked back to my sorry excuse of a home, and probably never see you again.”

“Excuse me?” She’ll admit she was a little miffed by his response—she’d at least expected some form of acknowledgement. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he finally stopped jumping around and looked at her with an expression she could only describe as annoyance—which in itself was  _ annoying  _ because  _ she  _ was the one trying really hard not to be annoyed! “Sometimes I forget how…  _ slow  _ humans can be. Let me try and explain it to you in words you’ll understand.” He taps his chin, as if deep in thought, and Katie resists the urge to strangle him where he stands. He didn’t need to know that she had advanced several grades in middle and high school, had obtained four PhD’s from the top universities in the world,  _ and  _ was so valuable to the advancement of magical sciences, there was a bounty on her head. No, he doesn’t need to know that at all. “Any second now, I’ll be whisked away in a magical cloud of smoke, leaving you to wonder whether or not you hallucinated the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.” 

Her blood boils and she lets out a scoff. “Never before have I met someone as infuriating as yourself. Thank you for saving my life, but I won’t miss you.” She crosses her arms, counting the seconds before he disappears. 

“Yeah well neither will I.” His eyes narrow at her, and she hates that she has to resist the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. 

Instead, she focuses on glaring back, waiting for him to be whisked away to whatever dark hole he came out of. 

She waited… 

… and waited…

… and waited. 

Nothing happened. 

“Any time now,” Lance’s voice is impatient, with a hint of desperation. “Any time now.” 

She raises a brow at him, pleased to see that his ‘cool’ had faded away with the change of events. “Is there a possibility at all that you might have made a little mistake?” 

He looks slightly offended that she would have the audacity to suggest such a thing, but is swift to shake his head. “No. Once the contract is complete, I’m supposed to return to the Underrealm. Unless…”

“Unless?” She prompts him to continue. 

He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “Unless some idiot specifies otherwise.” 

“Hey! I take offence to that!” she snarks, but he’s too busy scanning the paper in his hand. His eyes dart back and forth, and he mouths the words on the page softly. 

“Ah! Here we go!” Clearing his throat, he begins to read aloud dramatically. “Upon signing the contract, the party, me, is bound to whomever drew the document, you, for life.” He stops reading, and looks up at her, the gravity of their situation weighing down on them both. 

“For life?” she manages to squeak out, not quite believing her ears. “Like forever?” 

“Yup,” he swallows dryly. “That’s what ‘for life’ means.” 

“Well this is fucking fantastic,” she exclaims, not caring to keep her voice down. “So I’m stuck with you for the rest of my already miserable life? This sucks!” she shakes her fist at the sky. “You hear me universe? You suck!” 

“Hey, don’t blame the universe!” Lance chides. “It’s not the one who wrote the contract.” 

“Yeah well I was sort of in a life or death situation, you know, no time to spell check and revise my work!” She needs to hit something, and at the moment, Lance’s chiseled face was looking like a pretty good option. ”And I’m not the one who signed it!” 

“Yeah well if you’d stuck to the normal script, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!” 

“I thought you said you read the contract’?” She mimics him, using air quotes. “Well I guess you can’t read then!” 

“Okay fine! I skimmed it, are you happy? So what, I'm a skimmer, kill me now.” He staggers to the side, and she’s briefly concerned that he hurt himself in the fight, until she smells the familiar reek of booze. 

“Oh my god,” she cups his head in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Are you drunk?”

"No," he scoffs, not daring to look her in the eye. "..maybe. Look, a couple glasses of nunvil never hurt anyone."

Katie wants to laugh hysterically. The universe definitely hates her. She shoves his face away, running her hands through her own hair, barely resisting the urge to tug it out. "You have got to be kidding me. Of all the demons in hell, they choose to send me the one who isn't sober enough to read the terms and conditions!"

"Woah woah woah, first off, I prefer the term elemental, and secondly, it's the  _ Underrealm _ , not hell. Two very different places." Even his voice was annoying. "Anyways, I'm not the one who wrote the quizancking contract in the first place! The fact that you're stuck with me is 100% your fault."

"Oh my god, is anything ever your fault?" her voice is full of exasperation, having heard enough of his jabbering. "You are the most immature and conceited human I've ever met!"

"Technically not a human either," he starts, and she whirls on him, rage seeping out of her every pore.

“God just kill me now!” She yells at the sky, tears of frustration budding in the corners of her eyes, before pointing an accusatory finger at Lance. “If that’s the only way to get rid of you, let me die!” 

“You know, this isn’t exactly ideal for me either, but unfortunately for both of us, I can’t do that. Contract states I’m not allowed to do you any purposeful harm.”

“That’s stupid,” she shakes her head. “This is so freaking stupid!” 

“Yeah, well if only we knew the idiot who drew it up in the first place.” He glared at her. “Oh wait. We do.” 

“You know what? Fine! I’ll just call some more bounty hunters here. She opens her phone, showing him the screen. The moment I connect to the internet, everyone who knows about the price on my head will know exactly where I am.” Something in his posture changes, she notes as his shoulders go ridged and he stalks towards her like an animal to his prey. 

“Put that away,” his voice is dangerously low. “ _ Now _ .”

She sighs and rolls her eyes, pocketing her phone. She tries to look cool doing it, but she is becoming unwillingly flustered by the annoyingly attractive Lance. “Look, I don’t have a death wish. If I did, then I would be dead by now, so you can calm your demon ass down.”

“Listen here shorty,” Lance leans in closer, so close she can see the waves of a stormy ocean in his eyes. “I may not like you very much, but you are still my contractor, which means unless you tell me otherwise, I’m bound to make sure  _ your  _ sorry ass doesn’t get killed.”

Something in his tone speaks sadness and regret, and Katie makes a note to ask him about it when— _ if _ they get closer. As she registers his last words, her frustration with him rushes back and she wants to laugh in his face. “You don’t like me? I’m the one who doesn’t like you! In fact—”

Her eyes don’t even catch the movement before it's over, the only evidence that something happened is the burst of air she feels. Looking to her right, she sees Lance’s hand outstretched beside her cheek, his fingers splayed. But what makes her heart pick up its pace is the two bullets in between his fingers. When she looks back to him, his eyes are trained on something she cannot see, and his body moves slightly towards her. “You are to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?” 

She nods without question, something in his posture and voice telling her now wasn’t the time to be petty and argue. 

Out of the trees step three hooded figures, each one with a menacing purple aura. Katie’s blood runs cold. 

_ Druids _ . 

Lance must have sensed a fear, because a hand grabs hers, squeezing comfortingly. It was out of the character she’d established for him, yet not unwelcome.

Memories flash before her eyes, of her home burning, her family running. Of blood and despair and destruction, the very life force of the beings before her. 

_ Katrina Holt,  _ they speak into her mind. She knows Lance cannot hear their voices, not unless they want him to. And judging by his lack of reaction, they didn’t.  _ It’s been a long time.  _

_ What do you want?  _ She asks, not in the mood to play their mind games. 

_ You know what we want,  _ they hissed in unison. 

_ Never. You’ll never get it.  _

The druid in the middle lets out a cackle, and Lance turns to her, concern marring his features. “Katie? What’s going on?” His face blurs in her vision, be it from pure panic or tears, she doesn't know. Her throat feels like it's closing up, and despite her best efforts, her hands begin to shake. 

She shakes her head, ripping her eyes away from him to train them on the shadowy figures before them. WIth a squeeze, Lance gently releases her hand and steps partially in front of her,  _ protecting  _ her. His swords appear in his hands, glowing a dangerous blue, his stance defensive. 

Katie doesn’t know if he’s ever faced a druid before, let alone three, but she has. She’s seen first hand what they’re capable of. Only one is enough to take down an entire task force. 

_ This is your last chance to surrender. Give it to us.  _

_ No.  _ She manages to respond confidently. She has not gone the last ten years living carefully to give up that easily.  _ You’ll have to kill me first.  _

_ That can be arranged.  _

Lance looks back at her, panic written all over his face, and she knows he’s heard the last exchange. He opens his mouth to say something—probably chastise her for being so reckless—but he doesn’t get the chance. 

For at that exact moment, the druids attack. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts? id love to hear it all!


	3. of battles, long and hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you trust me?” 
> 
> Her eyes pierce into his, boring deep into his soul, and he forgets the danger that surrounds him, the wounds he feels. Every inch of his body is telling him no, that he’s only just met this girl and she has done nothing to earn his trust and yet—
> 
> “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter, and its by far the longest so far! action is not my strong suit, so apologies in advance! 
> 
> huge thanks to noa for the beta! 
> 
> hope y'all enjoy!

Lance has seen many things in his lifetime, but nothing as horrifying as this. Behind him, Katie trembles and he can smell her fear. The hooded figures before them unleash a wave of darkness, before lunging forwards on all fours. 

The elemental in him is telling him to stay and fight, but he knows that's not an option, not with  _ her.  _

He grabs her hand, yanking her around. “Run.” he says. 

She does. 

Lance has to give her credit, despite her short legs, that girl can run. She takes off, sprinting into the forest with a sort of feral survival instinct that gets his own blood pumping.

Still, she’s too slow. He spares a look behind them, the creatures slowly gaining on them. He looks to his side, at his contractor, at the determination in her eyes, and begins to call his power. 

If she dies now, he would return to the Underrealm and have to undergo Keith’s non-stop teasing. He knows his magic is strong, stronger than any other demon on the face of this earth, but to use it to its full potential—that's something he hasn’t done in decades, after he swore to never unleash it again. But looking back at the creatures that pursued them, at the wave of darkness they bring with them, he is pretty sure he has no other choice. 

Lance flings out a net of his power behind them, an invisible barrier wafting blue tendrils in the wind. Katie stiffens, whipping her head to him as the power ripples away in a wave. Her skin blanches further, but she continues, half falling, half running down the hill. 

The impact of three massive bodies against his magic strikes a moment later. 

Katie flinches at the noise, the tang of her well masked terror shoves itself up his nose. 

She is nowhere near fast enough, not if they were to escape without a fight. 

Lance opens his mouth to order her to hurry when the invisible wall snaps. 

Not snaps, but cracks, as if those witches had cleaved it. 

_ Impossible. _ No one could get through those shields. Not even Keith. 

But sure enough, the magic had been broken. 

They only have seconds before the enemy would be on top of them. Katie’s breath is already labored, and his decision is instant. 

“Keep going, don’t look back,” he orders, before turning and drawing his blade. He hopes Katie has enough common sense to listen to him. A wild smile dances on Lances lips as he lets his magic rise to the surface, lets its power roar through his veins. 

He had crumbled cities with this power. 

He doubts these creatures will fare any better. 

They slow as they close in, sensing a predator—sizing him up. 

And for the first time in a quiznacking long while, Lance has no words for what he sees. 

Their cloaks fall down, revealing their true form as they contort, bones snapping and mending, joints popping back into sockets. Their skin is tinged with purple, but he can still see the pulsing veins that run under it—filled with black blood. Each limb is grotesquely shaped, honed for killing. Each creature has their own set of claws—no,  _ talons _ —and he suspects they’ll have no trouble ripping through his flesh if given the chance.

But it was not their bodies that stun him. 

It was the way the creatures halted, smiling beneath their long crooked noses to reveal double rows of needle-like teeth, before rolling up to their full height, as a crawling man might, dwarfing him by at least a foot. 

They reeked of death, staining the air. Lance’s stomach rolls. 

_ “We have not tasted the flesh of your kind yet,” _ it hisses. 

His sword twitches up. “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure either.” 

His enemy focuses on the blade.  _ Perfect.  _

In a second, his sword is gone, replaced by several daggers and he hurls them at the creatures, his aim true. Two fall to the ground with sickening thuds, black blood oozing from the wounds. The third one reels on him, lashing out and catching Lance’s side. Agony spreads through him like wildfire and he staggers back, keeping his eyes trained on the enemy. 

The creature grabs its gun and fires four bullets—most likely enhanced with magic—at him. He twists out of the way, three of them missing, the fourth one clipping his shoulder. Lance weaves the last bit of his magic into a shield, a last ditch attempt at protection. 

It’s mouth opens and it releases a primal scream that sets Lance’s ears ringing. It lunges for the shield. 

It rebounds, the magic denser this time. Lance draws his long sword, and a knife. 

And can only watch as the thing roars at the shield before slamming against it with both ruined, clawed hands… and his magic, his shield, melts under its touch. 

It steps through his ruined magic like it’s a doorway.  _ “Now we play.”  _

Lance crouches into a defensive stance, wondering how far Katie had made it. 

Behind the creature, its companion is twitching. 

No—reviving. 

It lifts a strong, clawed hand to the daggers through its skull—and yanks them out. Metal rasps on bone. 

Only the one with its head now attached by a few tendons remains down. Lance cocks his head. Beheading it is then.

The one before him smiles in savage delight. 

“What are you?” Lance grounds out. 

_ “We are hunters for Her Dark Majesty,” _ the leader says with a mock bow.  _ “We are the druids. And we have been sent to retrieve our prize.  _

The druid goes on, stepping towards him. _ “We were going to let you have a quick death—a gift.” _ It’s broad nostrils flare, scenting the silent forest.  _ “But as you have stood between us and our prey… we will savor drawing out your end.”  _

“What do you want with her?” he asks, monitoring their creeping approach. 

_ “It is none of your concern.”  _

Lance has to think fast. “If there is a reward in it, I will help you.” 

Dark, soulless eyes flash towards him. _ “You do not protect the girl?”  _

He gives a shrug, praying they can’t scent his bluff as he buys her more time to run, and himself time to work out how he was going to beat them. “I don’t even know her name.” 

The two druids look at each other, a glance of question, then decision. “ _ She is important to our queen. Retrieve her and she will reward you with power far greater than feeble shields.”  _

Lance forces his expression to remain neutral, as he inwardly bristles at the insult to his magic. 

“Why is she important?” 

They are now within spitting range. He wonders how long it takes to replenish the supply of whatever power allowed them to cleave through his magic. Perhaps they’re buying themselves time as well. 

_ “She carries something that our Queen desires.”  _

Lance could have sworn an invisible hand touched his shoulder. 

He knows that touch, had trusted it his entire life. Had missed it during his time in the Underrealm. It had kept him alive this long. 

A touch on his back to go forward, to fight and kill and breath in death. A touch on his shoulder to run. To know that only doom waits ahead, and life lays behind. 

His magic is already drained, the druids tearing though it like paper. His muscles ache, his sword heavy in his hands, and he knows he stands no chance. Not like this. 

The creature focuses on something behind him, its mouth contorting into that gods-awful smile and Lance prays that he’s wrong. That the druid is focusing on some bird or flower, and not on his contractor. 

Against his better judgement, he turns, his heart sinking into his chest as he meets golden eyes. 

He curses the stars for giving him a quiznacking stubborn foolish contractor. She is trembling slightly, and Lance gets the feeling the druid is speaking into her mind. 

His blade morphs into his gun, and he fires several shots before lunging for Katie and dragging her down, behind a log. 

_ “You are only prolonging your demise”  _ Judging by the way Katie’s eyes widen, he knows she’s hearing it too.  _ “You will be ours, Katie Holt.”  _

Lance moves to get up, to go down fighting, but Katie is pushing him down, the look on her face telling him not to mess with her. He peeks out from behind the log, his face blanching at the sight before him. 

Arms extended, the druids leak darkness. It pools at their feet before making its way forward, bringing with it the smell of rot. 

“Listen, you’re never going to beat them on your own,” she says, bringing his attention back to her. “Let me help.” 

“No offence  _ hermosa _ ,” he winces as she presses down on the gash on his side. “But how exactly are you going to help me?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Her eyes pierce into his, boring deep into his soul, and he forgets the danger that surrounds him, the wounds he feels. Every inch of his body is telling him  _ no, _ that he’s only just met this girl and she has done nothing to earn his trust and yet—

_ “Yes.” _ It’s nothing more than a whisper, and nothing he does stops it from rolling off his tongue. 

He winces in pain as she grabs a rock, slicing open his hand. He’s about to whirl on her, but something in her gaze stops him. She locks eyes with him briefly before cutting her own palm open and clasping it against his, blood to blood and soul to soul. Something snaps in place between them. 

A contract bond. 

One stronger than he’d ever felt before, and that terrifies him. The only other bond that could ever come close to how this one felt had taken years of building. He could still remember the emptiness he’d felt when it had snapped, and he’d been helpless to do anything about it.

Wave after wave of emotions, both his own and Katie's, storm through his consciousness, and he clutches her closer to him, overwhelmed with the pain and fear in her mind. 

The wave of impenetrable black descends, roaring as it makes to devour them. 

Katie’s power punches through him, so vast it his head spins. She keeps his grip with unrelenting stretch, and he harnesses her wild magic, letting it flow through his body, heal his wounds. 

The black wave was not halfway fallen when they shatter it apart, hand in hand, leaving the druids gaping. He does not give them a moment to spin the darkness back, drawing strength from the endless well within Katie, he pulls up water and ice and the force of a thousand stormy waves. 

Water, fluid yet focused, able to cut through diamonds, extends from his fingers, and he brings his free hand up. His power flows from his body through his fingertips, mixing with the makeshift blade. The druids recoil, something resembling horror on their mutated faces, but Lance gives them no chance to retreat. 

He reaches out, slicing through the necks of the druids like they were butter. Black blood splatters his cheek, but he pays it no mind. Looking down, he finds the wound on his side and shoulder completely healed. 

Her hand relaxes its grip on his, and they pull apart as Lance takes in the destruction. Trees stand, cut in half in a half circle, as far as he could see, a result of the force he’d unleashed. 

A crunch behind him brings his focus to Katie. 

She looks paler than normal, and she struggles to stand. 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

She leans heavily against a tree. “I’ll be fine.” 

It hits him. He isn’t feeling drained at all because she refilled him. Lance hadn’t thought humans were capable of magic, let alone magic as powerful as hers, but he saves it as a question for a later time. 

“Okay,” he stands, his hands on his hips. “Let’s get you home.” 

“Villas across the river,” she mumbles, her eyelids already closing. “Number 5.” 

Lance scoops her up into his arms and begins to trek through the woods. He could sense the river, it’s pull in his blood, and let it lead him. 

He marvels at how un-gremlin-like she looks when she’s sleeping. The worry in her face is replaced with peacefulness, and he has to admit, she doesn’t look entirely unpleasant. 

She was barely a woman, and Lance can’t help but wonder what she’s gone through to cause all those emotions. He knows enough about bond etiquette to not go snooping into her mind without her permission, but that didn’t stop the curiosity. 

His grip tightened slightly, and the familiar desire to  _ protect _ his contractor flooding back. Something tells him there is more to Katie Holt then what meets the eye.

He also realizes with a start that even if wanted to, he couldn’t leave earth. Not when creatures like druids roamed free, preying on the weak and innocent. Someone had told him a long time ago that leaving when you’re needed makes you no better than whoever's terrorizing the people. 

Something in his blood compels him to stay, and he makes a metal note to send a message to Keith and Allura, notifying them about the situation on earth. How it's so much worse then they could have thought. 

Lance looks down at the girl sleeping in his arms and holds back the flood of memories that threatened to break though. He didn’t need to like her to keep her alive. He couldn’t save his last contractor, but he’d be damned if he let the same thing happen to her. 

  
  


_ * _

The villa is small but cozy, the kitchen, dining room and living room, all combined into one central hub.

Lance gently sets his contractor down on the couch before searching the cupboards for some sort of nourishment. He is satisfied with the cans of soup he finds, and moves to look for a pot, only to realize they’re all dirty. By the look of the caked on food, Lance can guess Katie hasn’t done dishes for several days. 

Sighing, he rolls up his sleeves and begins to scrub away at the grim, wondering just what he’s gotten himself into. He’s a quiznacking water elemental, and here he is, playing nanny for a girl. 

Even though his pride protests it, a small part of Lance is grateful for something to do. Anything to keep his mind away from the endless questions swirling inside. 

He places the last plate in the drying rack before moving to the stove, a freshly scrubbed pot in hand.

He likes to think his mom taught him how to cook and clean. It’s been something he’s known how to do for as long as he can remember—which starts from the day he changed. One day, he just woke up and knew exactly where he was and what he was supposed to be doing, nothing but a ghost of laughter and a fuzzy image of a beach as memories. All traces of his life before were gone. 

He gives the soup a stir, before dishing it out into two bowls and heading back to the couch. Technically he doesn’t have to eat, but his last contractor had taught him that he shouldn’t eat because he has to, rather to experience the food. Lance doubts this canned soup will hold up to the amazing dishes he’d had in the past but food is food.

_ “Bud, come on. I just slaved away in the kitchen for hours, and you’re not going to try it?”  _

_ “I already told you, I don’t eat. Besides, we both know you love cooking.”  _

_ “Yes I do, but you know what? I love cooking for my friends even more.”  _

_ “...friends?”  _

_ “Come on! What did you think we were? Of course you’re my friend, you’re stuck with me after all.”  _

He smiles at the memory, before looking at his current contractor who was beginning to stir from her beauty sleep. Being friends with her would certainly make the whole situation more pleasant, but considering their last encounter—his lip curls in disdain and he shakes his head.  _ Nope. _ They were too different. It would be a strictly professional relationship.

_ You should at least thank her,  _ the voice inside his head  _ she did save your life. _

_ Yeah well I saved her’s first, so I win. We’re even,  _ he grumbles back. 

_ Did you though? You sort of just shouted at her to run.  _

He lets out a groan of frustration before making his way to the couch and handing his now awake contractor a bowl. 

“Here.” 

She pushes it away. “Not hungry.” 

“Eat,” he growls, and she stares back, her eyes full of the same determination he saw when they’d been running away from the druids.

_ I can do this all day _ , he thinks, intensifying his stare. 

_ So can I,  _ she responds, and it takes him a moment to realize her mouth hasn’t moved. He also picks up on the fact that she responded to his thought; key word:  _ thought _ . 

“What the quizanck?” She breaths, before turning on him accusingly. “What did you do to me?” 

“ _ I  _ didn’t do anything. It’s the contract bond.” he gently tugs at it, and watches as her eyes light up. “You feel that right?” 

She nods, and a moment later he feels a tug. “What is this?” 

“It's a condition of the contract, tying together a demon and a contractor. The bond strengthens as the relationship between the two grows.” 

“So you’re in my head?” She narrows her eyes. “And I’m in yours?” 

“Sort of. I can’t go into your head without your permission unless our relationship is exceptionally strong, and vice versa. Sometimes I’ll get your emotions, or random images in my head, but nothing personal and deep, unless, again, our relationship evolves.” 

She nods slowly, taking in all the information. “Okay. Then we don’t evolve our relationship. We keep this professional, and we don’t have to worry about getting into each other's heads. Deal?” 

For once, they were in agreement. “Deal,” he confirms before handing her the soup bowl. “Now eat.” 

She sighs, reluctantly taking the food and eating a spoonful, never breaking his gaze.  _ Happy?  _

_ Finish it and then we’ll see.  _ He runs a hand though his locks, and notices her still staring. He can’t help the smirk that spreads across his face. “No evolving our relationship means no falling in love with me. You think you can handle that,  _ hermosa _ ?” 

She groans, tossing a pillow at his head that he catches easily. “Believe me, that won’t be a problem.” She says through her teeth, before setting her now empty bowl aside. 

_ Not hungry my ass _ , he thinks smugly, before looking up, slightly terrified that she’d heard him. Steam wasn’t puffing out of her ears, so he assumes he's safe, and lets out a sigh. Although he’d never admit it to her, for such a small person, she could be quite terrifying when she wanted to. 

She moves to get up, but his hand shoots out and stops her. Her face is a mix of confusion and annoyance. 

"Hey, I just wanted to say, uhm," He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, tearing his gaze away from hers. "I just wanted to say thank you. You know, for saving my butt out there and everything. I mean man, I didn't even know humans could—"

"They can't. At least not normally." It was his turn to look at her and her turn to look down. "But it's no biggie. Think of it as an apology? For being a jerk to you earlier?" She mumbles that last bit, but he still picks it up.

He wants to press her for details, wants to ask what makes her so special, but decided against it. Instead, he sighs gruffly. “Okay apology accepted. I guess I’m sorry too.” 

"Ya think?" She raises a brow, her arms crossed. 

He gasps, slightly offended. “Oh you little—”

"Please," she waves a hand at him dismissively. “I’m pretty sure on top of being drunk, you called by slow, and idiot, and stupid. Ring a bell?” 

He rolls his eyes at her, the familiar annoyance beginning to build up again. “Yeah, well you said you would rather die than be with me.” 

“Because you were being annoying!” she whispers screams. “You know what? I can’t deal with this right now.” she stands up, walking towards one of the closed doors. “I’m taking a shower and going to bed.” 

“Fine! You do that!” he calls after her, and then as an afterthought, “where do I sleep?” 

That stops her in her tracks, and she turns, very slowly. “I only have one bed.” 

“Pardon?” he just needs to double check. 

“I said I only have one bed you idiot!” She marches up to him, her face a lovely shade of crimson. “And I’d offer you the couch, but you’re too tall. As much as I hate to admit it, you’re the best defense I have against the druids and I need you in good working order, so I am offering you one side of me bed.” 

He takes a moment to decompress the words that spewed from her mouth. His smirk returns. “Why Katie, if you wanted to sleep with me, you just needed to ask.” 

Her blush darkens. “Fine then! Sleep on the couch or floor, I don’t care, just don’t come crying to me when you’re sore tomorrow morning!” 

“No, no no no,” he says quickly. “I’ll take the bed.” 

“No more sex jokes?” 

“Well can’t promise anything,” her gaze sharpens and he quickly continues, “but I will try my absolute best!” 

She’s silent, and for a moment he thinks she’s going to reject him. He holds his breath, waiting for her decision. 

_ “Fine.”  _

He slumps in relief as she heads back to the bathroom. “You won’t regret it!”

“I already have,” She yells back, before closing the door, followed by the sound of running water. 

Lance picks up his now-cold soup, and shoves it into his mouth, cringing slightly at the artificial taste. Then, he washes the dishes and makes his way around the small living space. 

His eyes are drawn to a photo of Katie and an older boy. A brother probably, their resemblance was uncanny. He frowns. The photo had to be several years old, Katie looks no older than twelve, yet there were no more recent pictures. 

His fingers gently graze the glass of the frame, and for the second time that night, he wonders just how much Katie had lost.

A scream pulls him out of his thoughts, and he feels his power crackle at his fingertips.

_ Katie. _

That same, familiar need to protect stems from the bond and into his bones. He runs to the bathroom door, hesitating momentarily as he wonders about Katie’s state of dress. Lance figures the health and safety of his contractor trumps her modesty and without giving it another thought, kicks the door in, icy sparks in one hand, his sword in the other.

He is greeted with a burst of steam, and another squeak from Katie, before his instincts kick in. In three steps, he has the intruder against the wall, his blade under their throat.

"Lance? What the hell?"

He blinks rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the humid room before he realizes his grave mistake. Katie looks up at him, her cheeks, neck, shoulders all flushed a furious crimson. He suspects that the rest of her body matches, but the towel she was clutching together in her small hands prevented him from finding out.

He stumbles as far away from her as possible, his brain trying to come up with a suitable excuse.

“I thought someone was attacking you.” She looks absolutely livid, so he adds on, “you did scream.” 

Her shoulders relax slightly, and she sighs. “Yeah, fair enough. Just—” She points to the slightly bent door. “Let me get dressed.” 

He nods, retreating out the way he came, closing the door as much as it could. She emerges a few minutes later in a sweatshirt and pajama pants, and joins him on the couch.

"So uh, why did you scream?"

She holds up her left hand, pointing to her finger. "What the hell is this?"

Lance leans in to inspect the base of her finger. Inked into her skin was a blue ring made out of intricately woven stars and moons. He knows what it is instantly.

"It's my mark." her face flushed and he clears his throat, realizing his error in word choice. "Think of it as a physical representation of our bond."

"Our bond," she repeats slowly. "You mean this thing." she gestures in between them, and he knows what she means.

This connection they feel with each other, the constant pull. "Yeah." 

“Huh.” She holds her hand up, gently running a finger over his mark, her face softening into an expression Lance has never seen her wear. A sort of vulnerability on display for him to see. “It’s pretty.”

Such a simple comment, yet so different from the profile he’s put together on his mysterious contractor. Still, his chest puffs out in pride at her compliment. 

She yawns, standing again. “I’m going to bed. Be quiet when you come in.” 

He nods as she shuffles away. Fed, clean and not grumpy, she was almost adorable. 

He banishes the thought as soon as it enters his mind. 

They were strictly professional. 

Nothing more and nothing less. 

  
  
  


Groaning, he unbuttons his shirt, the adrenaline wearing off and being replaced by soreness. As he leans over the sink to splash water over his face, something in the mirror catches his eye, making him stand up straight. 

His marking, green as a forest, sits over his heart. He reaches up, gingerly tracing the curves of the wave-like design, feeling the beating of his heart under his fingertips. It tingles slightly under his fingertips. 

Tearing his gaze away, he summons a fresh shirt and sweatpants, changes, and makes his way to the bedroom. The light is off, but his eyes are good enough to see through the darkness. 

He watches as the lump under the blanket rises and falls with each breath she takes before quietly crawling under the comforter beside her. She was curled in foetal position, her back towards him, and even though she took up very little space, her bed was not large. Lying on his back and almost falling off of the bed,, he can still feel the heat she radiates. If he moves to the left an inch, he’d be touching her. 

Sighing softly, he shifts his arm under his head as a pillow, his muscles protesting at the awkward position.

It was going to be a long night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts? comments? scream at me below!


	4. in which they get along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So we're cool?"
> 
> "Yeah," he smiles into the darkness. "Cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy quarantine! hope y'all are staying safe and sane!   
> i got tired of our main duo not liking each other, so excuse the rushed beginning!

Despite their best efforts, preventing the eternal contract bond from growing was practically impossible. It grew with every accidental touch, every clipped short conversation, every fight and squabble, literally  _ anything _ they did caused whatever was between them to strengthen.

And eventually, they just stopped trying. One word answers became short talks which eventually transformed into full blown conversations. It scares her how easy it was to talk to Lance, how the words seemed to just flow between them.

Sure, her demon—sorry,  _ elemental _ —knew exactly how to push her buttons, but it was nice having company. Even if he was a royal pain in her ass.

By now, she'd learned how to tune out his constant babble—how someone can talk so much is beyond her—and his constant presence is comforting. Especially after the encounter with the druids three weeks ago. 

Katie has to admit that Lance was slowly starting to grow on her. Even with his infuriating attitude and large ego, waking up to breakfast that was somehow always delicious was a nice change from her usual cereal—dry cereal if she ran out of milk. 

She had tried asking him how he learned how to cook once, but he had brushed her off claiming it was natural talent. He was lying, she could feel it, but she didn't push. That was one of the great things about their relationship. They both understood that some secrets deserved to be kept. 

Turning her attention back to her current project—the small robot monopolizing her coffee table—she pushes her hair back from her eyes.

Lance emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp, humming a tune to himself. 

"You heading out?" she asks, looking at him over her glasses. Lance had made a habit of going to the river at least twice a week. What he doesthere is none of her business, but she assumes it had something to do with official demon stuff. 

He hums in response, reaching into thin air and pulling out a light rain coat. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him use magic and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but somehow it got cooler and cooler each time. 

"How do you do that?" she asks before she can stop herself and he looks at her, confused. 

"Do what?" 

"You know," she tries to mimic reaching into the folds of space with her hands, giving up at his lost expression, and shooting an image of himself seconds before down the bond. "That."

He thinks for a second, tapping a finger on his chin. "Well, I just think of what I want and I pull it out." 

"Out of where?" 

"My locker."

"Are you being figurative or literal?" 

"Every demon has a pocket of space dedicated to keeping his or her things. We call this a locker." 

"Interesting." she quickly scribbles some notes down on a page. "So you can pull anything? Like if I said I wanted garlic knots, you could just poof them?" 

Lance sighs loudly, and she feels his annoyance through the bond. "No, because I didn't put any garlic knots in my locker. Obviously I can only retrieve stuff that's inside!" 

"Well excuse me for asking a question!" she shoots back, angrily crossing her arms. "No need to get your panties in a twist!"

He sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. It's been a while since I've had to do the whole demon q and a with anyone. Besides, none of my past contractors have been quite as—"

"Genius? Curious? Intelligent? yearning for knowledge?" she offers and he just chuckles.

"I was going to say annoying, but I guess those work too.” 

Before, she would have ripped his head off, but she's spent enough time in his company to know when he's joking. The slight tilt of his mouth, the sparkle in his eyes; all signs that he's only teasing her. Katie rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head, a slightly amused smile on her face. "Whatever you dofus, get out of here." 

He flashes her one of his dazzling smiles—one of the ones that made her blood boil and her face flush at the same time—and opened the door. "Try not to miss me too much when I'm gone okay?" 

She just waves him off, turning back to her current project. "It'll be nice not having a constant distraction around here. Maybe I'll finally get some work done." 

"Oh so you think I'm distracting?" 

Katie doesn't look up, but he sends her a  _ very  _ distracting image through the bond. She gets a glimpse of tan skin, lean muscles and _oh dear._ Her eyes go wide and she banishes the image from her mind, dropping her screwdriver, her face hot. "Lance! What the quiznack?" 

He grins, winking at her. "Just something to remember me by." 

The door is shut before she can yell at him.

*

The river welcomes him back like home, roaring and frothing in his wake. He laughs a little at how excited the water is to see him. 

"Hey there Blue," he sends sparks of his magic into the water. "How are you bud?"

The waves splash up to meet his magic, and Lance takes a moment to admire the rushing water before getting to work.

Gently, he coaxes a bubble of water about the size of a human out onto dry land. Keeping the water hovering above the ground, he whispers a quick spell, feeding his magic into the liquid. 

It sparks and dances for a bit, putting on a show, before shaping itself into a tall woman, her long hair flowing down her back. 

Lance bows. "My queen."

"Please Lance," the woman waves her hand at him. "You know how much I despise formalities." 

A grin cracks on his face and he straightens. "Only for you Allura." 

"How are things up there?" 

"Quiet. No attacks since that first one." He has to admit he's slightly relieved. The druids still haunt his dreams and he has no intention of facing them in reality any time soon. 

"Good, I suppose," Allura pauses, a finger tapping her chin. "Although their lack of activity does worry me. Stay on guard Lance." 

"You don't need to tell me twice." He knows Allura understands. He had vowed to never let what happened last time happen again. He would protect Katie till his last breath. 

"The contract bond is growing nicely I suppose?" 

"We tried our hardest to not let it, but it just happened anyways." Lance confesses, tugging on the bond and getting a wave of annoyance back. He smiles. 

"You can't prevent it Lance, it's a natural part of bonding." 

He sighs. "Yes mom." 

Allura makes a point to ignore his last comment. "And Katie? Since the bond is coming along nicely, I'm assuming you're no longer at each others throats?" 

"No, it's actually kinda nice having her around." Something in his chest flutters, and he clears his throat roughly. "I mean, not nice  _ nice _ , but better then Keith you know?" 

Allura shoots him a look that he can't quite decipher. "Of course." 

"Hey, not that I'm worried or anything but how is the overgrown matchstick?" 

"Even more mopey now that you're not here." 

Lance laughs, sitting on a log. It's just been two days since he's seen his queen and yet in the Underrealm, it was more like a week. Allura catches him up on all the latest gossip, sparing no detail when she gets to Corans 'hot date'. When she finally finishes, his sides ache from laughter and a smile lingers on his face. 

Allura looks behind her, before turning back to Lance, a sympathetic look in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I've got to go. Fight at the bar."

"Nothing serious I hope?" Lance asks, concerned. Fights aren't a normal occurrence in the Underrealm.

"No, it's just that—" her mouth tightens into a thin line. "The demons are getting unruly. It's in the air, something not right. Keith and I both feel it." 

Lance sucks in a breath. "That's not good." 

"No, not at all." 

"Allura, if they're somehow related, the things up here and down there—" 

"We must pray that is not the case." 

He nods, his hands clenching into fists at his side. He’s been soley focused on protecting Katie, but if the threat has leached into the Underrealm, all his friends are in danger. Sure, Keith and Allura can hold their own but all the newbies? They didn’t stand a chance. 

Allura’s watery figure reaches out, her fingertips wetting his jacket. "I really must go." She gives him a smile. "Take care Lance." 

"Until next time," he tips an imaginary hat, satisfied when her shoulders relax slightly. She rolls her eyes before the water collapses into the earth. 

It's dark when he finally gets back to the house, and Katie still hasn't moved. He isn't surprised, she rarely gets up from the coffee table if she's 'in the zone.' 

"Guess what I saw?" he asks, the lack of response doing nothing to deter him. "A flock of birds! Pigeons! They just flew right by me, as if I wasn't even there!" He takes a seat across the table, facing Katie. "You know who else is ignoring me? You." The cogs in his brain are spinning as an idea forms. "Wait a second! Pigeon, Pidgeon, Pidge!" He snaps his fingers excitedly. "New nickname!!" 

She glares up at him from her work. "What?" 

"You, my good spirited contractor, shall now be dubbed Pidge." He smiles at her, but she just makes an 'ugh' sound and looks back down at her project. 

_ Someone's tired and cranky _ , he shoots down the bond, only for his message to bounce back. A week ago, Katie had discovered she could block his side of the bond with mental barriers—walls, if you will—and practiced non stop until she could shoot them up and down with ease. He hadn't told her it usually took people months to master that technique, nor did he tell her now he might have been slightly impressed. Her ego would not have been able to take it. 

He sighs, looking at his watch. Ten after eleven. He's spent enough time to know that in about half an hour Katie will go from cranky tired to just plain tired, at which point getting her to bed should be a piece of cake. He reclines on the couch, his muscles sighing as he stretches them out, watching Katie work. 

Although her movements were slightly sluggish, they were purposeful and precise, never moving unless she had to. There was a certain elegance to her work that he's come to appreciate. Everything had to be just right for it to work. If just one screw is out of place, the whole thing could explode or just not work—something he's witnessed countless times.

He checks his watch. Half past eleven. A little early, but judging by the way her eyelids are drooping, and every five seconds her head nods up and down, Lance deems her ready for sleep. 

"Pidge?" he says softly as to not startle her. She doesn't look up. "Katie." A little more firmly this time. She raises her head, clearly annoyed. Lance resists the urge to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "It's time to put the robot down."

She shakes her head, going back to work. "I'm almost finished. Go on without me." 

"How did I get stuck with a stubborn genius for a contractor?" he muses almost fondly, watching her tinker away for a few minutes more before standing, brushing his hands on his slacks. "Alright. Time for bed." 

She makes no sign she's heard him, her tongue sticking out slightly as she fuses two wires together. Lance comes behind her and gently removes her project from her hands. “Katie, come on.” 

"Not tired," she mumbles, grabbing at her robot. 

_ Liar _ , he shoots down the bond, practically drowning in the waves of exhaustion coming off her. 

She pouts, crossing her arms. "You're not the boss of me. I believe  _ I'm  _ the contractor in this relationship." 

He chuckles, putting her project down on the couch before sweeping her into his arms. "But you forget my dear contractor, I'm bigger and stronger." 

Her pout intensifies and he doesn't miss the dusting of pink on her cheeks as he carries her to their bedroom before unceremoniously dropping her onto her side of the bed. She yelps, her limbs flailing as she bounces on the bed before he throws the covers over her and climbs in beside her. 

He senses her tense up, as if debating whether or not to make a run for it, so he slings his arm over her waist, holding her in place. 

"Don't even think about it," he mumbles. 

She hesitates before slumping into the mattress, her breathing slowing as she relaxes. 

_ Goodnight idiot. _

He smiles, ignoring the warm feeling in his stomach at her words. He tugs gently at the bond.  _ Night gremlin. _

*

She is standing in her childhood home, so Katie knows she is dreaming. She dreams of her home often, some happy, some sad, but this one is different. For one, her family is nowhere to be seen--usually one of them would have made an appearance by now. 

Katie tries to take a step forward, but she hits a wall of glass. She tries to scream but no sound comes out. Her fists pound on the barrier before her, not glass--she realizes, something different, something  _ magical _ . 

Then the darkness begins to appear, leaking into her chamber, pooling at her ankles. Her movements become more frantic as the oozing black rises. Something inside her itches to release, and in a moment of panic, she lets it. 

Blinding light slices through her tinted blue cage and she rips it apart--shreds it like paper. She gulps in the fresh air, her throat burning as the light continues to spread, blinding her, burning her,  _ suffocating _ her. 

Then it consumes her. 

And all she knows is darkness again. 

*

Katie is thankful when Lance doesn’t bring up her odd behaviour the next day, but judging by the concerned glances and terrible puns he keeps shooting down the bond, he knows something is up. For most of the day they remain in silence, Katie working on her project, Lance doing everything else--that is until he’s on the floor across from her, his fingers drumming on the table. 

She lets him hover for a minute before the tapping really gets to her. “Spill it Lance,” she tries her hardest to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “I don’t have all day.” 

“Well,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck.  _ Are you okay? You seem off. _

She raises a brow.  _ I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well.  _ It wasn’t technically a lie, and Lance seems satisfied with the answer, relaxing a bit. 

"What did you do for fun? You know, before you became a forest hermit?"

Katie raises a brow, her hands pausing their work. "Don't you have something better to do then bother me?"

He shakes his head. "Nope! I'm all yours." 

Her face flushes at the thought of being  _ all his,  _ but she shoves the thought down. "Well I'm sorry but this is a one sided relationship, and I am not interested."

"Come on Pidge! I'm bored!"

"Pidge? Really?" she raises a brow. "You couldn't come up with a better nickname?"

He shrugs. "I think it suits you. It's cute." 

Is he  _ blushing _ ? The room suddenly feels very warm. "I, uh, appreciate it, but I'm still busy." 

"Please?" he tries puppy dog eyes. "Humor me." 

"Ugh, fine. I liked video games? My brother and I used to have weekly competitions to see who did the chores." 

"Let me guess, you always won?" 

She scoffs. "Hardly. He would destroy me.” 

Lance's eyes widen comically. "Oh tell me more about this mysterious brother who somehow managed to best the great Katrina Holt!" 

Her smile falters but she's quick to replace it. "Well," she mindlessly rubs her finger over the inked ring on her skin. "he's my older brother Matt." She cringes at how foreign his name sounds on her tongue.

"Older brother huh?" Lance cracks a grin. "And he has no problems with his sister living alone with a dashingly handsome male like myself? Sharing a bed no less?"

She manages a laugh, silently sliding her walls up to prevent Lance from feeling the sorrow washing through her. "Don't worry, he's never been the overly protective type." 

"Lucky me." he winks, and she groans, rolling her eyes. 

"What about you?" she counters, desperate to change the subject. "What did the great Water Elemental Lance Mcclain do before he became great and a water elemental?" 

Almost at once, she can see his change in mood, the way his shoulders draw hunch over, his usual aura of charisma winking out into almost nothing. 

"I... well I don't know." he admits. "All I remember is a beach, beautiful waters, warm sand, the colors of a sunset painted in the sky." His eyes glaze over as he tells her. "And people are calling my name—no, not people, my  _ family— _ and they're telling me 'Lance, come in and eat,' and I want to turn, to run to them but that's where my memory ends." 

"Lance," she fiddles with her tattooed ring. "I'm so sorry." 

He gives her a small smile. "Don't be. It's not a sad memory, it's—" he grabs her hand. "Here, let me show you." 

She nods, and feels it at once, the rush through the bond. Her limbs become exhausted from a long day of swimming, her skin feels warm as if kissed by the sun, and she feels a peace wash over her, putting her mind at ease. "Is that how you feel every time you remember it?"

"Yeah," Lance murmurs, still grasping her hand. "It is."

They lapse into silence, and she has the urge to break it, to continue the conversation. She stares at her hand in his, at the circlet of stars on her finger. 

"The marks." she gestures to their joined hands. "Do you have one or is it only for the contractor?" 

His face flushes for a second before he releases her hand. She pretends not to miss his warmth. Lance seems shocked by the question, his stormy eyes widening. "What?" 

"Well you said the mark is a physical representation of the contract bond right?" he nods and she continues. "Well then since the bond goes both ways, should the mark not manifest on both of the individuals involved?"

Lance thinks about this for a moment before shrugging. "I mean I guess? But magic isn't science little Pidge." She rolls her eyes at the nickname, but he continues. "I am a mark free man." He makes a big show of holding his arms out and spinning, as if she was inspecting him. 

Something about the way he smiles a little too hard makes her question the truth behind his words, but then again, why would he lie to her about a mark? She resists the urge to find out via bond—no need to invade his privacy—and instead shrugs, standing up, yawning. "I'm going to head to bed. You coming?" 

Lance looks at the clock, then at her, confused. "This early? You never sleep early." He steps forward and leans down, his nose inches from hers. "Who are you and what did you do to Pidge?" 

Katie tries to suppress her blush at their proximity, to no avail, but plays it cool anyways and pushes him away with her index finger. "Evil geniuses need to sleep sometimes too okay?" 

The truth was she didn't want him to carry her to bed again, but she would  _ never _ say that to his face. His annoyingly handsome face. With that perfect smile and eyes like the ocean and— 

"Katie?" Lance is waving a hand in front of her face. "You alright? You look a little flushed." 

"Fine," she clears her throat. "Just... distracted." 

She knows her mistake the moment the words leave her mouth as Lance's face transforms from concerned to mischievous. His mouth tilts up in a smirk, and he waggles his eyebrows at her. 

"Distracted huh?" his arms cross over his chest, and he leans his weight back slightly. "By a certain sharpshooter?" 

Okay, now she's just confused. "Sharpshooper?" 

His persona crumples and he lets out a melodramatic sigh. "Me! I'm the sharpshooter." 

"Right," she nods slowly. "Forgive me for my mortal incompetence oh great water elemental, but how... ?" 

He glares at her, but shoots several images down the bond; him with a sniper, about to take down a target, him flying through the air, two pistols in his hands as he fires them in slow motion, him, whipping out a revolver and firing behind him without even looking, and about a dozen more like it. 

"Ah," she pushes the images aside. "I see." 

"I believe impressive is the word you're looking for?" 

"Yeah, I'm still not calling you that." 

Lance clutches his hands to his heart, making a big show of falling to the ground. "Demon woman, why must you torture me so?" he fake sobs into the carpet. 

"I'm pretty sure I'm not the demon in this relationship," She shoots back, lightly kicking his side. "Now get up, the carpet is filthy."

"Two corrections Pidge. First off, I don't know how many times we have to go over this but I'm an elemental _.  _ And secondly, I vacuumed this morning." He looks so pleased with himself, kinda like a puppy who's just brought back a ball, it makes her smile. 

"Well thank you. That was really thoughtful."

Lance clearly was not expecting that. "Uh, you're welcome."

She nods, clearing her throat, the sudden awkwardness stifling. "Okay, well I'll be off then." He gives her a mix between a wave and miming picking an apple, causing them both to cringe. "Don't make too much noise when you turn in."

She flees before he can get the chance to respond, changing into her pajamas and jumping into bed, burying her face in her pillow. What the  _ quiznack _ had that been?

*

He had lied. He had straight out lied and told her he didn't have a mark. His fingers brush over his heart, over the ring of emerald waves encircling it. Why had he lied to her?

_ You're afraid _ . The voice in his head provides.  _ You're afraid of what it means. _

_ Thank you captain obvious _ , he snaps back, still tracing the inked skin. 

Marks are not only a physical representation of the contract bond, but they show what the future holds for the bonded pair. His mark had once manifested into a snake wrapped around his contractors neck and needless to say that relationship did not end well. 

With Katie, she had the ring on her finger, so similar to the ones humans give each other as symbols of eternal love. And her circle encasing his heart... it didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant. 

Lance lets out a groan, rubbing his hands over his face. It was too late for this. He was probably jumping to conclusions. A good nights rest would do him good. 

He gets into bed as quietly as possible, slipping under the covers and next to his contractor. The silence is deafening, and no matter how much he tries, sleep just won’t come. 

"Hey Lance?" a groggy voice breaks the silence. "You awake?" 

He lets out a breath, shifting slightly so that his arm is under his head. "No, why?" 

There was a rustle as she flips over, facing him and he is shocked at how big her eyes are, staring sleepily up at him. He turns away, his heart pounding just a little faster. 

"Earlier, things were kinda weird." 

"Understatement of the year, but go on." He looks back at her and she's biting her lip, unsure of what to say. Ten hells, this woman would be the death of him.

"Well, I just wanted to check if we're good?" 

"Good?"

"You know, partners in crime, bromigos, all that jazz. You're still the good looking pain in the ass elemental and I'm the annoyingly smart gremlin?"

He gets a tingly feeling in his stomach at the fact that she remembered he's not a demon, but pushes that aside as the rest of her words sink in. "You think I'm good looking?" 

She shoots him a wave of exasperation, and he chuckles. 

After some silence, "So we're cool?"

"Yeah," he smiles into the darkness. "Cool.”

He doesn’t say anything when her hand finds his in the darkness, nor when she doesn’t let go. Instead, for one night, he lets himself enjoy it, consequences be damned. His mark tingles but it is soon forgotten as sleep claims his mind. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/questions/screams? always welcome!


	5. the one where the angst starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He raises a brow, crossing his arms. “No witty comeback?” His comment is hesitant, as if he’s testing the waters. She feels him reach out with the bond, seeking answers but she slams her walls down, ignoring the pang of hurt on his face.
> 
> “Katie, don’t be like that.”
> 
> She’s tired, so tired and not in the mood to deal with him, so she just turns and walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand another chapter! the angst is here, so strap in, grab some snacks and enjoy the ride! 
> 
> the next update isn't going to happen for a while, mainly because i need to get some notes straight and figure out the details on exactly what happened to our poor main characters. 
> 
> also please excuse the random pov chance in the first scene, i wrote it in chunks and was way to lazy to fix it. maybe one day i'll go back and change it but that day was not today. 
> 
> As always huge thank you to Mads for the beta!

Lance is bored. Not your usual ‘there’s nothing to do’ bored, but a level of boredness he’s never reached before, not even in the Underrealm. His fingers tap the coffee table, little blue sparks flying out as he tries to count the number of hairs on Katie's head.  _ That’s  _ how bored he is. 

“So, still working away I see,” he mumbles, scratching on her mental wall like a puppy. 

“What do you want Lance?” She asks, not looking up from her work but sending him an image of her disappointed annoyed face. 

“I’m bored.” he declares, throwing his arms up. “What can I do?” 

At this Katie pauses, before looking up. “How about you go talk to your water friend. Or whatever you do down by the river.” 

He would, but some part of him wanted to spend time with Katie. The last week had passed with no incident save for a new project that she was now throwing herself into. He kinda missed their talks. “My water friend is busy,” he lies, “so you're stuck with me.” 

“Woo me.” Sarcasm drips off every word. He clasps a hand to his chest in mock pain. 

“How dare you!” Lance gives her his biggest pout. 

That earns a laugh out of her, and he can’t help the smile that overtakes his face. Have her eyes always been so golden? Or was it just the sun? 

Katie puts down her robot, rolling her eyes, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “Okay fine, I’ll bite. What do you want to do?” 

His heart leaps. “How about dinner?” he asks. 

“Sure,” she shrugs. “There's some chicken in the fridge. You could make pasta?” 

He laughs a little, earning himself a confused look.”No Pidge, I mean lets go out! Have some fun. We’ll dress up, go to a restaurant, maybe go for a walk after?” It was a simple request but for some reason his palms are sweating and he feels like a teenage boy again. Not like he remembers how it felt to be a teen, but from the movies he’s watched it feels like a pretty accurate representation. 

Her cheeks redden and her lips part slightly. He’s almost sure he’s won her over when she sets down her robot. 

“Lance, you know we can’t do that.” She dismisses him, turning back to her project. 

His heart sinks to his feet. “I don’t see why not.” He tries to keep the edge out of his voice

“Really? How about Haggar and the druids? Or did you forget how we almost  _ died _ ?” 

“Yeah, three months ago!” He shoots back. “And I was drunk. Pidge, it’ll be fun. Plus I don’t feel like cooking today.’ 

“Lance, Haggar—” 

“We can stop her!” He flexes his arms. “I need the action! My magic is bursting out of my skin!” 

“No, we can’t.” She says it with such conviction that it momentarily steals his thunder. 

“How about you give me some of your juice?” Lance asks, holding out his hand, the faint pink scar still visible. “If I’m at full power, and you boost me up, Haggar and her druids can kiss earth goodbye!” 

Katie chuckles at his enthusiasm but shakes her head. “I don’t think so Lance.” 

“Come on!” he lets a trickle of desperation escape down the bond, only for it to hit a wall. He staggers back, his eyes wide. “Pidge, why not?” 

“I just don’t think we should go looking for trouble.” She tries to shrug it off but even without the bond, he catches the tightness in her voice, in the forced smile she flashes him. It only peaks his curiosity. 

“Why not?” 

“Look, I said no!” she shouts, and something in Lance snaps. 

"Aren't you tired of living in fear? Living like a coward?" He practically spits the last word at her feet.

She whirls on him. "I'd rather be an alive coward than a dead fool."

"So what? You're not even going to try to help?"

"You're one to talk. Isn't this your first time on the surface for decades?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he hisses, and she sees flashes of memories through their bond, all displaying the same thing.

_ Pain. _

Guilt roils in her gut. "Okay, I'm sorry, I just—" Her hands clench into fists at her side. "Look, it's a touchy subject and I don't want to talk about it."

"What are you so afraid of?" A playful smile spreads across his face. "You have me now. Katie and Lance, druid fighting team of the century! With my magic and your power, we—"

"No Lance," She cuts him off harshly. "I haven't stayed alive this long by playing hero!"

“So what?” his voice rises. “You’re going to let your power go to waste when it's very clear it could help take down the druids and their queen?”

“Those druids and their queen,” the word burns her tongue—such a monster did not deserve a title, “are not to be engaged! I didn’t bind myself to you to have you go out looking for trouble! If you wanted a fight, you should have returned sooner when we still had a fighting chance. Where were you when Haggar took control?” _When my family was taken and used—only being freed in death._

Lance’s eyes glow with a rage she hasn’t seen before and she knows her blow had struck hard. “Since you’re not willing,” he seethes through his teeth, the air around them beginning to crackle and hum with his power. “Maybe I’ll just use you as my own personal power supply, keep you as my recharging station, huh?”

She gulps down her fear, but she knows he sensed the change in her attitude, how she has shifted from defiant to defensive.

He raises a brow, crossing his arms. “No witty comeback?” His comment is hesitant, as if he’s testing the waters. She feels him reach out with the bond, seeking answers but she slams her walls down, ignoring the pang of hurt on his face.

“Katie, don’t be like that.”

She’s tired, so tired and not in the mood to deal with him, so she just turns and walks away. She can feel his gaze boring into the back of her head but she doesn’t turn back. Instead, her feet carry her to the bathroom, where she closes the door and starts the water, hoping soaking for an hour would soothe the ache deep in her heart.

*

Watching her walk away, Lance brings his hand up to grip at his chest, right over the waves of green that encircle his heart. His mark was tingling, almost painful, but it was nothing compared to the brief flash of emotions

He could have pushed, could have broken through her walls, but something had told him that if he took that away from her—after so much had been ripped from her already—that he would be crossing the line.

That quiznacking line. He had tortured, betrayed and murdered yet somehow fulfilling his own curiosity was pushing the line.

He hears the water run, feels the tug in his bones but resists the urge to talk to her. Not yet. He needs to clear his head first. 

Sighing he begins to cook dinner, chicken pasta, the familiar movements of preparing food putting his mind slightly more at ease as his anger slowly melts away.

_ “Cooking is a universal language,” Hunk says, his hands gesturing at the array of spices in front of them. “You might not be able to speak the same language as a person, but if you make them delicious food, it shows them you care.”  _

_ Lance scoffs, already lost. “Bud, easy for you to say everything you make is to die for.”  _

_ “Which is why I’m teaching you.” Hunk gives him a look. “Oh come on! It’ll be fun!”  _

_ The water elemental picks up a potato, giving his contractor a grimace. “I’m not sure—”  _

_ “Okay step one!” He is interrupted by an overwhelming amount of enthusiasm. “Boil the water!”  _

He shakes the memory from his head, stirring the contents of his pot. Pasta cooked and seasoned, Lance tastes the sauce, smiling at the familiar spices. He turns off the heat and plates it up, setting the table before walking ever so slowly to the closed bathroom door. 

Summoning all of his courage, he brings a hand up and raps on the door three times. There is no response, save for the splashing of bathwater in the tub, and he’s about to give up when he feels her walls drop, letting him in.

A silent invitation to enter. He takes it before he can think twice, not knowing what he’ll say or do once he’s inside. All he knows is the weariness he feels is not his own, and he would do anything to take it away from her.

*

The door creaks open, and she feels his presence enter the small bathroom. 

She would have yelled at him for walking in with no regard for her decency, but something tells her there was not an inch of a woman's body he hasn’t yet explored. 

A breath, a step, and then a complete stop. The air goes cold.

She knows what he sees; the five perfect circles trailing down her spine when she’d been plugged in, connected by a thick line, from when she’d been ripped out. From her time as a living battery. The bond ripples between them, a flood of emotions she has no energy to decipher washing over her. She doesn’t dare breath, not with his eyes fixed to the scars.

“Who?” a simple question yet coming from him it feels like an entire interrogation. There is a danger to his words she cannot place, and if she’d had more energy, she would have scolded him for talking to her like that.

It would have been easy to lie, but she’s so tired and he didn’t deserve that. She shrugs. “Haggar, the druids, it doesn’t matter. I spent some time in their captivity”

He’s so still, she wonders if he’s stopped breathing. “How long?”

“A year. I was there a year, give or take, before…it's a long story.”

“They used you.”

She gives him a slow nod.

His power flings out into the room, filling her every sense, so thick and unwavering its suffocating. Then, as soon as it came, it’s gone, as if it was never there.

She peaks over her shoulder just in time to see the newly fixed bathroom door click shut softly. She reaches out with the bond, hesitant at first, only to discover his walls up.

Resting her head on her knees, she takes a deep breath, examining her fingers, all wrinkled and soft. A part of her wishes he had slammed the door, broken it again, done anything to show her what was going on in his head. Somehow the silence of the bathroom is worse than the yelling she had expected.

*

_ Her back. _

Lance had seen many horrors in his days, inflicted them on enemies deserving of his wrath. He’d tended to the wounded in battle, witnessed gashes fatal enough to take the lives of his friends.

In the grand scheme of things, her back wasn’t even close to some of those wounds. Yet when he’d seen it, his heart had stopped—and for a moment there had been nothing but overwhelming silence. He’d felt his magic honing into a lethal weapon the longer he’d stared—howling at him to rip apart those guilty with his bare hands.

He pushes through the trees, his magic crackling on his fingertips, barely contained. The river roars at his approach, as if sensing the turmoil inside his heart. Whispering a spell under his breath, he summons Allura, the water taking her shape.

“Lance!” His queen smiles, brilliant as always. “How lovely! Wha—” She freezes as she takes in his expression, his withheld rage. “What's wrong?”

“Katie,” he grits out. “Her back.”

A flash of recognition before masked with calm. “What about it?”

“Did you know?”

She opens and closes her mouth.

“Did you know?” he repeats and Allura turns her gaze downward.

“Lance I—”

“No! I know you looked into her, you look into every one of your demons contractors, its what makes you such a good queen. But I need to know, did you know?”

She nods, her features displaying nothing but regret and sadness. Lance’s power hums through his veins.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” It's more or a growl then a question.

His queen stands tall, a vision of elegance. “I stand by what I did. It was not my place nor my duty to reveal the secrets of others.” 

“God, Allura I threatened to—” he stops, his stomach roiling with guilt at what he’d done. His queen's eyes narrow.

“You threatened to what?” her voice is dangerously low, and Lance’s head hangs in shame.

“I threatened to use her power as my own.” At Allura’s horrified gasp, he continues, “as a joke mostly.” he runs a hand through his already tangled hair. “I was just so angry and it came out. Gods, what do I do?”

Allura stays silent, the roar of the river keeping them from complete silence. Even in her watery surface, Lance can clearly see the turmoil in her gaze. 

“I suggest you get back to your contractor and figure out what you can do to make this right. Lance, you both were starting to develop a relationship—a strong one if you ask me—so go home and explain why you left before things get out of hand.”

He sighs. “Yeah, alright. I’ll get going now.” 

“And Lance?” Her image wavers as his magic pulls away from the water. “Guard your heart.”

The water collapses into a pool at his feet, before sliding back into the river, and Lance begins his journey home. Gently he pulls on the bond, only to find her walls back up. He tries not to let it bother him, he probably deserves it, and yet his mark flares up, hot to the touch. 

He clenches his teeth as he thinks about the hollow look in her eyes when she’d turned away from him—that was the look of someone who’s given up. Primal anger sharpened in his gut, brimming with a territorial, possessive need, an elementals duty and honor. Not only to protect, but also for her.

She’s so quick to make assumptions, and a million ideas flood his mind on what she’s thinking now, probably assuming the worst about his leaving. Just the thought of it didn’t sit well with him.He picks up his pace, his mind racing with ways to apologize. 

Lance arrives at the villa too soon, his steps heavy by the time he enters the door. And comes to a complete stop.

It’s quiet, eerily so. He sends out feelers of magic, to test the waters. They come back empty, as if no one was in the villa.

Which can’t be right because Katie should be here. She should be in bed, under the covers pretending to sleep to avoid talking.

He takes a deep breath before checking the bathroom, then their bedroom. Both empty. His breathing speeds up, his heart beating uncomfortable fast. “Katie?” he tries to call again, tries to sense her location, but it comes up empty.

Nothing.

He’d gotten sloppy, lulled into a false sense of security, he hadn’t even sensed danger. Panic bubbles up his throat and he feels him power leaching out of his fingers, snapping at anything nearby. Not again, he begs, please not again.

_ “Dude?” Lance calls, flicking on the lights to the apartment he’d called home for the past 5 years. “I’m ba—” _

Gods, she had been defenseless, naked, and he had left her. Memories flash through him and he is unable to do anything but watch as they play in his head, reminding him of everything he’s ever done wrong.

_ The moment he enters the kitchen, he knows something is wrong; the air is still, void of all life. A pot of something remains on the stove, its contents burned and ruined. _

He was a fool, stupid so quiznacking stupid, making the same mistake twice. He falls to his knees, tugging at his hair as the room sparks to life, quaking in his wake.

_ He tears through the apartment, turning over every shelf, every chair, but it only confirms what he already knows. _

Haggar had her, that witch had his contractor and was probably doing unspeakable things to her again.

_ His contractor, his friend, is gone. _

She’s gone. He’s lost her.

_ And he is too late. _

He had failed.

The tether he’s been keeping on his power snaps and Lance explodes.

His rage releases in a wave of power, and he screams until his voice is hoarse. Someone opens the door, stepping inside and at once a familiar scent floods through him. Katie.

But that’s impossible, she’s gone. This is a mind game. He clutches at his head, letting out a roar. Someone is shouting his name, and he tries to focus on it but can’t.

A crash sounds in the distance. Running footsteps, then familiar amber eyes, full of worry.

“Lance, calm down.”

A choked sob works its way out of his throat, at how real she looks, how the witches managed to capture her every detail. He reaches out a hand to touch her cheek, but she flinches as his fingertip sparks against her skin, leaving a red mark.

"I'm sorry," he blubbers, looking horrified at his fingertips. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, I'm okay but I need you to stop." She places her hand on his chest, right above his mark— _ her  _ mark, the mark she didn’t even know existed. The bond between them, a bond that wouldn't exist unless she was truly real and alive, flares, sending spirals of silver outwards, illuminating their faces.

Relief that Katie is alive floods through him, but is quickly overtaken by shame of what he’d done. His magic flares up again, creating a vortex around them, whipping Katie’s hair around her face and dislodging her glasses. She fumbles to put them back on before grabbing onto his shoulders with both hands. 

“Lance, stop,” she orders, something in her tone shifting.

He feels his body obey, unable to go against her command. His power snuffs out, and he slumps onto her, his eyes finally taking in his surroundings.

The room was a mess, papers scattered in every direction, the shards of a cup off to one side. His breathing picks up again, but this time he clings to the bond, focusing on it, tethering himself down. Hands are cupping his face and he’s looking into eyes—her eyes, unwavering and strong.

“LIsten to me,” she says in a hushed whisper, resting her forehead against his. “I’m okay. You’re okay. Nothing happened.”

He nods, forcing himself to swallow as his breathing returns to normal, his mind soothed by her words. They stay like that—heads pressed together, the bond between them pulsing—until he deems himself able to think clearly. He gently pulls away, ignoring her look of lingering concern.

“Thank you,” his voice is hoarse. “Really.”

“No problem.” She stands, and he can tell—the hesitation though the bond, the reluctance in her movement—that she isn’t convinced he’s back to normal. As gently as he can, he caresses the bond, watching her face relax slightly. He moves to sit on the couch while she makes her way through the mess to the kitchen, filling up a kettle with water.

His eyes track her every movement as if a part of him is still scared she’s going to disappear. She’s dressed in a tank top, and his eyes glue to the scars visible under the thin material. He knows it's just a glimpse of the damage that had been done to her, but it still makes his gut clench down, his hands balling into fists. 

Haggar would pay. 

The air crackles with his magic again, and Katie’s head whips up, their eyes locking. She strokes the bond and he takes a few deep breaths to recompose himself. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, astounded at how steady his voice is. 

“I’m making hot chocolate.” She opens the cupboard pulling out two mugs. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments? screams? predictions for the future? i love hearing it all!

**Author's Note:**

> comments/suggestions/questions are always appreciated! 
> 
> (im trying to get better at responding!)


End file.
